How To Ruin Everything
by Represent
Summary: If you've purchased this book, you've taken an active interest in destroying everything. These ten commandments precede every spectacular fall from grace. Follow them and you too can join the wretched, the broken, the inconsolable. (Danny x Valerie)
1. Make a pact with the enemy

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><p><strong>How To Ruin Everything<strong>

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><p><strong>Lesson 1:<strong>

**Make a pact with the enemy.**

_Everybody has one. Take a moment to think real hard. Sometimes your true enemies are the people closest to you. You will need to create a support network that, at that crucial moment, can be counted upon to kick you when you're down. Reach out to those that take great pride in destroying you as they will be the ones that keep you honest on your path to total annihilation._

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Just like most ghost fights, this one has escalated from ridiculous to absolute chaos. Between the uprooted cars and the huge hole in the school's roof I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I know deep down in my gut I'll get blamed for this— or— _Phantom _will get blamed for this. Thank god for dual identities, because there's no way my allowance is going to cover all this damage.

Below me Sam and Tucker hack away at vines that sprout from the cement like water from a hydrant. Sam's more handy with a hatchet than Tucker. Although, I'm pretty sure that….

"Are you _apologizing!?"_

She sends me a withering look, blood running down her pale cheek where a thorn got too close for comfort.

"No!" She scissors a vine and then— there it is— a small whispered 'sorry'. She _is._ She's apologizing for cutting this ghost-plant apart. A ghost-plant that's currently doing thousands upon thousands of dollars in property damage. I stare at her for a long moment, hardly believing it. "It's not the _plant's fault_ you dumped the ecto-filtrator goop on it!" she bellows at me, seeing my stunned expression as she slices away with renewed spirit.

I roll my eyes. Here we go. I should have known I'd never hear the end of this. "Yes, poor plant. Maybe we should just ask it politely to stop."

"You should be thanking me" —she swings— "for helping you" —she ducks underneath a giant leaf— "after you_ caused this whole mess in the first place!"_

"Uh guys—?" Tucker pipes, wriggling as a vine gets his ankle and pulls him down.

"How was I supposed to know it would mutate into this thing?" I try blasting apart the vine that's trying to sneak up behind Tucker and wring his neck. It scampers back, smoking.

"You shouldn't pollute. EVER," Sam yells obstinately. "It's _WRONG_."

"Yes _OKAY_ in retrospect it was a bad idea! What do you want me to say?"

"GUYS—" Tucker bellows. "Can we fight about this _later?_"

"Sorry would be a good place to start," Sam hisses.

"Fine. I'm s—" Two steely arms wrap around my neck and my arms twist behind me. I gasp, surprised, before my throat's choked and I fall back heavily into a plush human body.

"Gotcha," a familiar voice growls into my ear.

"HELP!" Tucker yells and I watch as both Sam and Tucker are swallowed by the sea of leaves and stems. Shit. I squirm in her grasp, feeling her feet slip slightly on her hoverpad. Of course. Just as a cough follows a cold, I should have known _she'd_ show up the minute she heard about a ghost fight. I struggle, pinned through ten years of jiu jitsu.

Oh right. Duh. Ghost powers.

I phase, slipping out from her, and rocket a few feet away. Behind her the demon rose bush is reaching its full height. My brain goes silent as I take in the vision before me: Valerie Grey's curved figure in a tight jumpsuit, the distant spark of power lines being downed showering her in a halo of glitter, behind her dozens of blooming, faintly glowing, red ghost-roses. We broke up over two months ago and I'm not over her. She is _glorious. _

Then she's pointing a gun at me, unsure as to why I'm just staring at her with my jaw unhinged.

"What's the matter, ghost?" she asks as the gun whirls to life, "Hit your head or something?"

"No, but you're about to," I tell her.

"...What?"

A ten foot rose drops on top of her— too top heavy to stay upright on its branch— and she screams, kicking and punching different karate moves, as she's knocked off of her hoverpad and sent spiraling back down to earth, red petals swirling behind.

I start to nosedive after her, but her hoverpad slows her fall and she tumbles through the open roof of the school gym into a tangled nest of vines. I can still hear her screaming (—get _OFF_ me, stupid plant!—) but I know she's probably trapped, just like Sam and Tucker, in the undergrowth. Good. At least she's out of my hair for the time being so I can do my job.

It takes a considerable amount of flying around and almost all of my ectoplasmic energy to cut through the largest stalks and suck up the ghostly goop that's flowing through the plant's stems. As soon as most of the energy is contained within my thermos the plant stills, no longer writhing with some kind of strange sentience. Instead it shrinks several stories into a relatively normal— albeit enormous— rose bush.

I land, panting, as I pick my way through where I think Tucker and Sam are.

"Guys?" I call out, using the last bits of my energy to blast through a few of the now-dead vines. I feel my heart start thudding and my body transform back without my permission. The hold on my ghostly self slips through my exhausted fingertips.

"Danny—" Sam's voice. Her hand is barely visible underneath a large rose leaf, "Over here—"

I shove the leaf away to reveal Sam's face. She's still glaring at me.

"Get me out," she demands. She waggles her hand around.

"Alright hang on." I yank at the vines, finding them nearly impossible to break without the use of my ectoblasts.

"You really need to do more push ups," Sam notes dryly as she watches me struggle.

"Do you want me to leave you here?" I mutter.

She frowns, but holds her tongue. Instead her smeared black lipstick is pursed into a loud grimace. With a few sharp hacks I free her arms and her ankles and she shoves herself the rest of the way out, hatchet still in tow.

"Tuck?" Sam calls, swirling the hatchet in her palm. With a few quick decisive swings she clears off most of the area where Tucker had been, finding him a good foot underneath the vines. Together we yank him out.

"Ew— gross." He shivers, trying to dust all the dirt and leaves off of him, "I need a shower."

"You guys alright?" I peer at them. Besides a few minor cuts they look to be okay.

"We'd be better if you hadn't dumped haunted crap into the earth," Sam grumbles.

"You're right." I hold up my palms in surrender, "I messed up." I look around at the mess. "Big time," I add quietly.

She peers at me for a long moment before she nods, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She takes the full thermos out of my hand and jiggles it around.

"You_ sure_ you got all of it?"

"Think so."

Sam begins to pick her way out of what used to be the high school parking lot. Now it looks like a scene out of _Sleeping Beauty_. Rows and rows of gnarled dead thorns and vines crack through the pavement. This is going to be a nightmare to clean up. I feel a thread if guilt worm around in my stomach at the thought.

Tucker follows. I start to as well before I pause, spinning and peering back at the gym.

"What?" Tucker stops.

"Uhh—" I hesitate, "I just need to check on something. You guys go ahead."

Sam is staring at me.

"Valerie?" she asks, her tone strange, clipped. "She'll be fine."

"She might need help, though."

I'm not sure what Sam's problem is with Valerie. Despite the whole _"I want to tear Phantom apart"_ thing Valerie has been perfectly civil. Besides, I know that it isn't as simple as that. Sam's never that simple. If the only reason Sam hates Valerie is because of her preoccupation with trying to waste my ghostly alter ego then Sam should also— by extension— hate my parents, which she doesn't. They get along fine.

Tucker's looking between the two of us, anticipating another fight, but Sam merely chucks the hatchet at me. It bounces a few times through the brush before landing near my feet.

By the time I bend to pick it up Sam's already stalking down the street, not looking back. I know she'll be mad at me for at least a day. I sigh.

Tucker gives me a small grin and a shrug.

"Clueless," he mutters. "See you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," I echo.

After the pair of them leave I spin around to take in the building. Already I can hear sirens in the distance. I should consider myself lucky that no one was around to witness my _faux pas_ of a transformation, but I really don't want to hang around when the authorities get here.

With grim determination I begin to hack through all the vines to get to the gym door. Already dragonflies and other bugs have started to buzz around inside the gym, attracted to the sickeningly sweet scent of the roses. I pluck one from a vine as I make my over to Valerie. Her head is the only thing exposed. The rest of her is tucked underneath a mountain of plant-life. Her battle suit is halfway retracted— broken, goggles missing from her face, her massive hair is spilling out, entangling in twigs.

"M'lady," I greet, brandishing the rose, as I cut my way closer to her, "Looks like you're in quite the bind."

"Danny?!" Valerie looks terrified. I pause for a moment, confused, before I realize I'm not supposed to know about her ghost-hunting part time job.

I feign a shocked expression. "Valerie? _You're_ the Red Huntress?"

"You don't sound very surprised," she notes. Her eyes narrow into suspicious glinting green beetles.

I shrug. "I might have figured it out around the same time you broke up with me," I admit.

"Why didn't you say something? Wait— Why are you even here?"

"I saw you fall. I was gonna cut you free," I tell her, attempting to twirl the hatchet in my hand heroically. Instead I fumble and send it clattering to the floor, narrowly missing my foot.

"Easy there, Davy Crockett." Her head tilts. "How are you always wherever Phantom is?"

I glance up. "_Phantom_ did this?" My eyebrows raise in mock outrage. "What a monster."

"Ha ha, very funny," Valerie deadpans, struggling against the vines, "I know you and your little crew think he's some kind of hero. But seriously. You're, like, always one step behind him."

"I have great timing."

"Or maybe you're helping him," Valerie hisses.

Close, but not quite.

"Hmmm…" I hum, picking up the hatchet once again, "_Or_ maybe I just was getting out of detention when this whole fiasco happened."

Valerie contemplates that for a long moment before she seems to believe me. It's a believable lie. As of late I've spent all of my free time in detention.

"Okay, get me out." Valerie tugs a bit, squirming.

I take a few steps closer to her before I stop, struck with sudden inspiration. I'm not sure where this idea comes from, but it seems to beam down from above and sizzle through my brain. Before I grapple full control of my lips it's already tumbling out of my mouth.

"I'll get you out if you teach me." I blurt.

_"Excuse me?"_ Valerie bristles, "Teach you _what?"_

"To fight." I remember her jujitsu hold around my neck. I also remember how Sam all but laughed at my failed attempts to wrestle the vines off of her with my bare hands. Tucker and Sam are right— I need to stop relying on my powers. I need to stop relying on my intangibility to get me out of tight situations.

"…Why?"

"With all these ghost attacks happening it seems like a valuable skill to learn," I reason.

Valerie puffs a bit of her hair out of her face. "I don't know. You're kind of a lost cause."

Lost cause? _Lost cause?_

"I could help you? Hunt ghosts?"

"No way. It's too dangerous. You could get hurt." There's a sudden shimmer in her eyes and I blink, lowering the axe.

"Wait— is _that _why you broke up with me?" I ask.

"_No,_" she snaps. "I have two jobs, school, and a forty five minute commute everyday thanks to the ghost kid— not to mention all my old friends won't even _speak_ to me—"

"Sounds lonely," I interrupt, "but what does all that have to do with me?"

She stares at me with big luminous green eyes. The urge to hold her close almost overwhelms me, but I keep my distance. I'm perpetually too nervous to ever do that.

"I just—" Her voice quiets into barely a whisper. I take a few steps closer until we're only inches apart. "I just have a lot of things going on right now. A lot of dangerous things. Ok, yeah, maybe not putting you in danger was one of the reasons. Maybe a big reason— _the _reason—"

I laugh softly. The irony of this is too much.

Her expression hardens. "What's your _problem?_" she mutters, her face darkening, "I just poured out my—"

"This whole thing is funny." My hand automatically rubs the back of neck and I glance away.

"Why?" She frowns, disgruntled.

"You do know my parents are paranormal experts, right? You didn't think for a minute that I may know a thing or two about ghosts?"

Valerie pauses and eyes me like some kind of ghost encyclopedia. "What all do you know?" she asks slowly.

"Oh, I know _lots_ of things." I smile. I know more about ghosts than any living person in this entire city. "I even know how to use all of my parent's equipment."

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"You _WHAT?!"_

I wince, poking a finger into my ear.

"Let me get this straight." Sam leans back in her chair and runs her palms along her skirt to smooth it down. "You told Valerie Grey— _who wants to murder you_— that you'll trade ghost hunting equipment and insider ghost knowledge for martial arts lessons?!"

"Well when you say it like that…"

Tucker stares at me, dumbfounded. "Dude," he deadpans, "this sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Keep your enemies close and your friends closer," I tell him sagely.

"It's 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' _I swear to god..._" Sam hisses, dissolving into grumblings.

"Really?" I blink, "That works even better, then." I eye Tucker with a suggestive waggle of my eyebrow.

Tucker raises a hand for a high-five.

"What? _No._" Sam breaks in between the two of us. "There is no high-five-ing. No fist bumping. No bro-shakes-"

"—What's a bro-shake?—"

"Danny." Sam grabs my hands and shakes them a bit to get my attention. "This is _serious._"

"I know," I tell her, feeling vaguely offended. "I _am_ serious." I've been serious, always, about how I feel for Valerie.

"You can't possibly think that giving Valerie more ammunition against you is a good idea."

"Half my parents stuff doesn't work anyways. Besides, at least now I know what weapons she has instead of her getting all this stuff from another source. In the end it's almost safer."

Sam's staring at me like I just recited Shakespeare in pig latin. Like some sort of horrendous travesty just took place.

"You can't be with her, Danny. It doesn't work. It _won't_ work," she says apologetically. It's her tone of voice and the certainty that's held within her statement that sets me off.

"Why not?" I challenge.

"I don't see how it's any of our business who Danny wants to date," Tucker says.

"Any of our—?!" Sam sputters, face beet red, "_Hello?!_ She tried to _kill_ you tonight— or am I the only one that saw that? Am I the only one concerned? Tucker?"

Tucker shifts about uncomfortably in his seat before he nods, siding with her.

"She has it out for Phantom," I correct, "not Fenton."

"Enlighten me. Is there supposed to be some sort of difference?" Sam asks.

"Look. Maybe once she starts hanging out with me again I can get her to finally see that not all ghosts are bad. That _Phantom_ isn't bad. Maybe, eventually, I'll be able to tell her the truth about me. In the meantime I'll learn how to fight, keep a close eye on her, feed her semi-buggy FentonWorks guns, and keep her away from whoever is giving her all her other equipment."

Tucker turns back to Sam, waffling. "He makes some good points," he says.

"So you're just going to keep her in the dark? Use her like some selfish teenage boy? Until what? What happens when she finds out? What happens then? You think she'll still like you?" Sam accuses, voice raised, "Your whole relationship is founded on _lies._"

I find myself standing out of the chair, my eyes glowing softly in the dark light of Sam's gothic bedroom. Sam's words feel like they've impaled me in the chest. "I don't know what happens," I tell her darkly. "But neither do you. I care about her and I'm going to try. Try to get her to understand that Phantom isn't evil. Cause that's all I _can_ do: _Try._"

I'm out of her room, the door furiously slamming shut behind me, as I barrel my way down her steps and out her front door. I completely miss the exchange that happens in my wake.

The quiet: "This isn't just a passing fling, Sam. You're going to lose him if you keep yelling at him over this." The sullen: "That's what I'm afraid of." Tucker's soft: "Afraid of it not being a fling or afraid of losing him?" The cracked, wet, reply: "Both."

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><p><em>tbc<em>

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><p>So, bear with me guys. This is my first attempt at a dramatic comedy. Well, technically it's a comedy, drama, romance, friendship, angst, friendship? story, in that order. This entire story was a result of balancing out my more darker and bleak stories. Namely <em>Little Fires<em>. I have about half of it written, but expect updates to be a bit slow. The one thing this story has taught me is that it's both hard and easy to write comedy. You really have to be in the mood. My goal is a chapter a month. Grey Ghost is my eternal weakness. It's so fun to write. Shout out to my wonderful beta, **HappyLeif**, who did a wonderful job of editing this thing.


	2. Ignore the advice of your best friends

**Lesson 2:  
>Ignore the advice of your best friends.<strong>

_Just as you must build your support network of fatal enemies, you must also take great care at distancing yourself from those that might intervene. Rip out those that might stand in your way of your own self-destruction. Siblings, parents, best friends… Can you really trust them?_

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><p>I had thought Valerie Grey teaching me martial arts would be erotic. It isn't. At all. It's painful, and tiring, and frustrating. Sometimes I'm convinced she's just using me to unleash all her pent up frustrations. Although she claims I'm getting better. I can do ten push ups now, which is nine more than I could do before.<p>

I wince as she gives me a deft blow to the side of the head. My ears start ringing and for a split second I'm disoriented. It's all the time Valerie needs to kick me in the stomach and send me sprawling on my ass.

I wheeze, the breath knocked right out of me. It feels as if my stomach has been physically shot out of my back and is now lying behind me.

"Ow—"

Valerie grabs me by the arms, hoists both of my limbs behind me and, with one quick knee to my back, I find my face pressed into the newly chopped grass. I blink, watching a ladybug leisurely stroll by, oblivious to my suffering.

"Uncle," I gasp.

"Valerie, sweetheart, want some lemonade?"

Valerie lets go of me, leaving me to lie in the grass in a cesspool of my own sweat and misery.

"Sure! Thanks Mrs. Fenton." Valerie's bare feet skip across the yard.

My own mother glances at me and merely laughs. "When you get up you can have some too, Danny," she calls, not seeming to mind that her son is getting beat up in her backyard.

I grumble, spitting out top soil.

This is a terrible idea. I should've listened to Sam. Valerie's made no effort to go easy on me. Sure, I'm learning at the speed of light, but only because not learning means taking a five minute unplanned power nap when Valerie 'accidentally' knees me unconscious. To her credit, she's only done that twice. Both times she's claimed she didn't meant to. Each time I wake to her face half an inch from mine, her eyes huge, hands clamped over her mouth and muttered soft butterfly apologies.

I gather up my limbs. They're permanently sore. We've only been training for a week and already I feel like I've evolved into one giant bruise.

As I wind my way inside my mother is gushing over Valerie.

The two of them have a lot in common. More than I had anticipated. Both of them are into science, both of them are trained in some form of martial arts, and both of them are hopelessly obsessed with ghosts. Needless to say my mother has taking a liking to Valerie. They jabber on for hours about ghosts and jujitsu. Despite the fact that I repeatedly tell her we aren't together (not that I don't _want _to be together) she still raises her eyebrows at me and gives me knowing smiles.

"—a superb roundhouse kick!" Mom is saying, "Your technique really is impeccable."

I roll my eyes and grab the pitcher of lemonade. As I move to lift it I wince, my arm turning into a limp noodle in protest. Valerie's gaze drifts away from my mother's face and watches as I struggle. She grabs it and pours my glass for me.

"Let's take a break?"

"Yeah," I breathe, not sure if I can take much more.

"You really _are_ getting better. Your technique is decent and your weight distribution is, for the most part, right," she tells me. "You just need to work on your defense. Why don't you ever think to block me?"

I _do_ think to block her. I think about it about a half second _after_ I think about turning intangible, and by then she's already digging her heels into my very solid, very human, body.

"Dunno," I say instead, too tired to talk. I gulp down the lemonade like a starving man.

"Well, at least you're throwing punches now," Valerie hums, leaning onto the countertop. I try not to look at the way her dark skin glistens with sweat, or the way her breasts press along the marble.

It was difficult at first to punch or kick at her. She looks so soft and vulnerable. She's a _girl_. But then she all but handed my ass to me and I got over that little hang-up really quickly. Besides, despite throwing punches and kicks her way I've never actually landed one. She is too quick and apparently I'm too predictable.

"Hey—" Valerie turns from the countertop and glances up at my mother, her face flushed and her hair wild, "Can I see the Ghost Portal?" She looks to me, her eyes huge and watery. "Please?"

My mom smiles. "I need to run a few errands. Be careful. The Portal isn't something to play with. You can get shocked pretty badly, right Danny? We don't want a repeat of last year."

"_Mom,_" I grumble, mortified.

Valerie shoots me a smirk, sipping a bit on her lemonade.

My mother gathers up her things and leaves, the front door slipping shut.

"Fine." I turn to Valerie. "Just let me change first." Because I smell and I have grass so far up my nose it's tickling the back of my throat.

I leave her in the kitchen as I ooze my way like a slug up the stairs. I'm climbing Mt. Everest. My hands yank myself up the banister with metaphoric ice picks. As I peel off my clothes I glance down at my phone, seeing a text from Sam.

_Can we talk? Are you still coming over for movie night?_

I frown, tossing the phone onto my bed as I pull on a fresh shirt and some jeans. That's right. It's Wednesday, which means movie night over at Sam's place with her and Tucker. I had all but forgotten between Valerie's body pressed against the counter and her foot colliding with the side of my head.

Sam's been very vocal about what she thinks of this new arrangement between Valerie and I. For the past week she's permanently scowled at me. I had hoped she'd get over it, but our fighting has only gotten worse. We haven't spoken in almost a day, which is unheard of. I miss her.

With one hand on my doorknob I pause, thinking hard, before I grab the phone and send back a reply.

_Yeah. I'll be over. 8 right?_

It takes all but a minute for my phone to vibrate in my hand as I move down the stairs and back into the kitchen. It gives a soft ping and I glance down at it.

_Right. 8. See you then._

"Who's that?" Valerie asks, sitting on the countertop where I'd left her.

"Sam." I pocket the phone.

Valerie frowns, hopping down off the counter.

"So, she's talking to you again?" she asks me. "She finally get over the fact that we're hanging out?"

If only it were that simple.

"Why does she hate me so much?" Valerie asks softly.

I detect a rare hint of vulnerability from her in that moment. Sometimes I forget how much Valerie has lost; I forget just how lonely Valerie is, now that she's no longer in the A-List, now that she's on her own. Well, _almost_ on her own. Strangely enough her newest ally is who she thinks is her enemy.

"She doesn't hate you," I tell her, but I know that's a lie. If there's one thing Sam excels at it's hating stuff. I'm just not used to her hating someone that I…. don't hate. I'm not sure what I feel for Valerie, but it's very far from hate. Maybe even the opposite of hate. Maybe.

Valerie laughs. She's suddenly close to me. I can feel the warmth radiating off her body. She peers up at me for a long moment and I hold my breath. Sometimes I'm terrified she'll notice the similarities when we're close like this. Can't she can see the resemblance?

"You still want to see the portal?" I ask her, my nose getting a good whiff the peachy scent of her shampoo.

"That was your end of the deal."

"Yeah, yeah." I mutter, leading her over to the basement steps, "Although now I'm starting to think I'm just your punching bag."

"Hey– I'm teaching you things!" She grins evilly.

"Yeah, like what my own blood tastes like," I grumble, flicking on the lights and moving down the steps. I note with some satisfaction that Valerie never takes her hand out of mine. My heart thuds in my chest. I'm a pathetic teenage boy.

Valerie gasps as she descends the final steps into the lab. Her hand tightens around mine and I turn to her, concerned, before I see how her eyes are gleaming with intrigue.

"Your parents made all this stuff?" She lets go of my hand and walks around the room once, taking it in. Her fingertips brush along the Boo-merang.

I tense. "Yeah. They're kind of… _enthusiastic._"

"They're kind of brilliant," she tells me.

"About some things." It's true. My parents are genius inventors. They've discovered how ectoplasm can be used as an renewable energy source. Their brilliance sort of ends at science and tinkering, though. When it comes to understanding people they flounder.

"What's this?" Valerie asks, grabbing the Catcher and tilting it towards me. I can't help but skitter back as the strings narrowly brush along my hair.

"Uh!" —I almost tell her to be careful with it, before I realize that it won't hurt her and that it _shouldn't_ hurt me— "That's the Catcher. It basically separates ghosts from any physical thing they've possessed."

"Like a person?" Valerie asks, plucking the strings. They hum happily. It's like they sense a fellow ghost hunter.

"Or any object." I think about Technus.

"It's beautiful." She smiles at me. "Like a work of art."

I force myself not to grimace. The Catcher's done enough damage to make me want to stay far away from it for a very long time. Although, if I look past my harbored animosity I can see what she means. It's strangely pretty. Doesn't mean I like it though.

"So, this is it?" Valerie pauses before the portal.

"Yup." I walk to stand next to her in front of the steel door.

"What's beyond the portal?" she asks.

I hesitate for a moment, before I shrug and tell her, not seeing the harm. "Another dimension called the Ghost Zone."

"Is that where all the ghosts come from?" She turns to me.

"Most of them." I answer vaguely.

"Do they all live in there?"

"Not sure if they 'live', but they reside in there, yes."

"Do you think Phantom is in there? Right now?" Her eyes acquire a strange gleam.

"Maybe," I fib.

"...Can you go inside?"

I can see where this line of questioning is headed. I know this is the part where I nudge her gently in the right direction.

"No," I lie, "The physics in there is totally different from here. My mom said that all your bodily fluids would boil and you'd explode. Ghosts don't have physical matter or biological processes they depend upon, so they can survive."

Valerie's face pales. She looks like she's been sufficiently persuaded against trying to go inside. Instead she frowns in contemplation. I can see the questions storming behind her eyes. "Why don't your parents just turn it off?"

I laugh. "Honestly? They don't know how. I accidentally turned it on a year ago and it's been on ever since. No matter what they do they can't figure out how to shut it down. Anyway— they're convinced the two worlds are irreversibly linked now, impossible to separate." I intertwine my fingers. "They depend on one another."

Valerie ponders that. She moves closer to it, running a palm along the steel door in almost reverence. "So how do the ghosts get out?"

"Not much can stop them." I shrug. "Certainly not a steel door."

"Your parents don't care?"

"About the ghosts getting out?" I run a hand through my hair and sit down at the desk across from the portal. "No. They're thrilled, actually. All their ghost detection equipment has been selling like crazy ever since the ghosts started showing up. Not to mention they've gained credibility. Besides, the only thing they love more than making ghost hunting devices is actual ghost hunting."

"What would they do if they caught one?" Valerie asks me sharply.

"I don't know." I try not to dwell on it. "I don't even think _they_ know what they'd do. Probably inspect it. Dissect it. Experiment on it." I shiver.

"They wouldn't kill it?"

"Kill a ghost?" I ask her, grinning despite myself.

"Obliterate it," she corrects. "Disintegrate it."

"Why? Is that what _you_ would do?"

I watch her face darken and grow serious. Her hands ball into fists until her fingernails dig into her palms. "Yeah. Yeah I would," she growls. "Ghosts do nothing but cause trouble. If I caught _him_ I'd do it. I could do it. I'd destroy him."

A chill runs through me at her words. Even though I know saying you're gonna to kill someone and _actually_ killing someone are two totally different things, the amount of malice and resentment in her voice is enough to make my spine stiffen. I have a lot of work to do before I ever get near telling Valerie the truth.

.

.

"Oh… Hello. _Daniel _right?"

I force myself not to scowl. This is only the millionth time I've been at Sam's house and still, Sam's mother refuses to acknowledge my existence. It's obvious where all of Sam's disdain comes from.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Manson," I greet politely. "You know, you can call me Danny."

"Yes, of course." She waves a gloved hand. "Come in. Sam is downstairs. I'll let her know you're here."

"Danny!"

I glance across the hallway to see Sam smiling nervously. She crosses the hall in five hurried steps and grabs my arm, dragging me along away from her mother. I follow, glad to escape Pamela's scrutiny, knowing deep down I'm merely trading one Manson's scrutiny for another.

"You're actually on time," Sam notes. "Tucker isn't here yet."

"No ghosts to hunt. No family game night to flake out on," I tell her, moving down the steps into her expansive basement. Truthfully I'm kind of nervous about whatever this 'talk' is going to entail. I've been punctual, for once. A result of my own dread.

Sam flops across one of the couches and I sink into the other. For a long moment we gaze at each other. How did it only take a week for things to get so awkward?

"So?" I prompt. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah…" Sam shifts a bit. "Look, Danny. I'm… I'm sorry about how I've been acting this past week. It hasn't been fair."

I blink. I'd been expecting anything and everything short of a genuine apology.

"I'm sorry too. Sorry for storming out, and for the stuff I said," I mumble.

"I still don't agree with what you're doing, but, it's your choice. It's your life." Sam shakes her head and lets out a small sigh. "God knows _I_ know what it's like to have people try and influence your decisions."

"It's not like I'm running off to join the circus or something," I laugh.

Sam grimaces.

I wince. "Sorry, bad analogy."

"Please tell me you're being smart about all this?" Sam's eyes peer pleadingly up into my own. "Tell me you're thinking about the whole picture, not just about getting back together with Valerie?"

I slump a little. "I'm not stupid. I'm not about to put a bow on my head, give her a gun, and then change in front of her," I reason.

"Of _course _not," Sam says, frustrated. Her eyes flash. "But that's essentially what you're doing!"

This is the root of our entire argument.

"No I'm not," I deny. "I just..." I pick a little at the seam of the couch. "I just want to see if I can change her mind about me— about Phantom."

"What if you can't?" Sam asks.

Of course I can. Of course it's possible. It _has_ to be possible. I have to believe it to be possible, because if I can't show Valerie not all ghosts are evil, then how do I have any hope of showing my parents? Or Amity Park? Or the world? I feel an overwhelming sadness creep through me at the thought. All these people— over half of the town— think _I'm_ the villain. The jewel heist thing, the mayor thing, and now the whole evil rose bush debacle has only resulted in more negative press about me. I try not to let it get to me, but hearing Valerie say she wants to kill my alter ego hurt more than one of her roundhouse kicks to my gut.

I sigh. "If I can't then... Then I guess we weren't meant to be."

Sam stares critically at me. Her eyebrows draw together. I know she's struggling to understand why I'm doing this. "Do… Do you love her?" she asks hesitantly.

I look up, shocked. "_What?_"

"I asked," —Sam inhales a long inhale— "If you love her."

"N-No," I blush, stuttering. "I don't think so. Of course not. I mean, we're _fifteen._ We're not even together. I don't even know her that well..." I trail off.

From upstairs the doorbell rings and there's the sound of Tucker's voice, chortling loudly to Sam's parents.

Sam is staring at me funny.

"What?" I question. My cheeks are hot, blush running down my neck.

"Nothing." She shakes her head. "I just— fine. I'll go along with whatever this is— with you and… and Valerie."

"Really? You'll talk to her?" I ask hopefully.

"Don't push it, loverboy," Sam warns. "I'm putting it on record I don't approve of this."

"You've made your point. Besides, she already thinks you hate her," I say. Sam mutters something that sounds kinda like: _well, she's not wrong_. "What was that?"

"Uh— I said I can't _wait_ to get to know her. You know, before she murders you in cold blood."

I get out of the chair to greet Tucker, who's bounding down the steps two at a time, and press a hand to the top of her head as I pass her by. "Friends?" I ask her.

Her glare softens a fraction. "Friends. Always," she says, before tacking on a soft, "We're doomed."


	3. Distort the truth

**Lesson 3: **

**Distort the truth.**

_A crucial, yet often overlooked, step in dissolving your life lies in your ability to warp reality. It's a skill that some people inherently possess and others must hone. Simply put: lives crash best when you misjudge the situation around you. Look around. What do you see? Now what do you _want_ to see? There you go. Practice makes perfect._

* * *

><p>32-26-10.<p>

Sigh.

32-26... I spin the lock around slower. My patience is thin. I'm already late for fourth period. The urge to stick my hand into my locker and grab my book is intense. Just as I spin the lock carefully to the last number there's an arm wrapping around my neck and my mid-section, yanking and pinning my elbows behind my back.

I yelp, struggling against an unseen assailant. Definitely not Dash. Dash just likes to shove the back of my head so my forehead hits my locker as he passes through. For one heart-pounding moment I'm completely confused, until I get a big whiff of her perfume. My body crams against the metal locker door, nose squishing a half inch from my lock. I would've been annoyed at the fact that my lock had— once again— reset itself had it not been for Valerie's body pressed along my back.

"Point made," I squeak.

"Vigilance, Danny," Valerie says brightly. Still, she doesn't let me go. I frown, attempting to kick back at her, but she uses her foot to wrap around and pins my left ankle to the wall. I now have three out of four limbs rendered lame. She's chuckling. This is usually how all of our interactions go down. Her showing me all of my inadequacies; me being slightly embarrassed, but somehow not completely discouraged.

"You know what I call this move?" she asks, voice low in my ear.

"The Uncomfortable and Slightly Inappropriate Hug?" I guess as I hobble on one foot like a flamingo.

Valerie lets loose a boisterously free laugh. It's loud and unapologetic about it's existence. Just like her. "No. I call it the Amputator. Made it up myself. There's no way you're gonna get out of it." And with that Valerie finally lets me free.

I rotate my shoulders a few times with a wince, wiggling my fingers and my toes to try and work some of the feeling back into them.

Valerie grins at me in her usual yellow attire. Her hair is particularly beautiful today.

"You're in a good mood," I note, attempting to open my locker for the fifth time. This time it finally obeys. My fingers work on autopilot— my brain still cartwheeling from the feeling of Valerie's hair against my cheek.

"Just because we're technically not training doesn't mean I can't make sure you're paying attention." Valerie re-adjusts her backpack and points a finger at me. "Ghosts are unpredictable. No one knows when they might pop up. If you're going help me you need to keep a look out. Expect more tests like this."

I don't mention my ghost sense. Instead I nod sagely. If more tests mean more of Valerie pressed against me, I'm down. "Yes, Obi-Wan." I give her a small bow, unsheathing my math textbook out from underneath my arm and extending it like it's a board for Valerie to smash.

She mock punches it, knuckles callused, before tossing me a grin and moving down the hallway to class.

"Valerie!" I call out.

She pauses. "What?"

"Want to join us for lunch?" I ask hopefully.

A small smile flickers across her face. Valerie has this way of going from completely self-assured to shy in a matter of seconds. For a moment I'm certain she'll say no. She's been eating by herself ever since… ever since the whole moving to Elmerton thing. But instead she gives me a curt nod.

"Sure, Anakin. I'd like that."

.

.

Sam's being _way_ too nice.

Tucker and I are growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. She's been probing Valerie for the past ten minutes.

"So, what do you think of the mandatory curfew after that whole evil ghost rose thing?" Sam asks lightly. She shoots me a look as she poses the question.

Sure. It's true. The whole rose bush thing's my fault. But there's not much I can do besides volunteer to clean it up and wait until the city's outrage simmers down. It's not like I _meant_ for the curfew to happen. Everyone's blowing things out of proportion.

"I think until someone gets this ghost infestation under control it's a good thing," Valerie says with a tossed smile. "I mean. Ghosts are dangerous. Someone could have been inside the building after hours and gotten seriously hurt." Her eyes flick to me for a moment, before she looks back down at her sandwich.

"There's a new horror film coming out next week," Sam mentions as she stabs a bit at her salad. "Supposed to be really good. You like scary movies?"

Valerie busies herself with her sandwich. "Sometimes. I like more action movies," she replies neutrally.

I know I asked Sam to get to know Valerie, but this isn't what I had in mind. I eye her suspiciously as I take a huge bite of my sandwich.

"This one's a ghost story," Sam continues. "Ghost of a past lover comes back from the dead, tears apart the town in search of hearts. Absolute horror. You should come with us and see it..."

My eyes narrow. I'm not so stupid to not recognize a ploy when I see one. I'm pretty sure Sam's making this all up. I take another bite out of my sandwich aggressively. Tucker gulps his soda, looking at the ceiling. I can tell he's trying his best not to laugh.

"...He rips out the hearts of each innocent victim and eats it. The only part he saves is the aorta, which he hangs around a necklace as a trophy. It's a tragic take on the futility of love and the fragility of the human body."

"Sam," I interrupt, seeing Valerie's face has gone a little pale. "We're _trying_ to eat here."

Sam's eyes wander across Valerie's ham sandwich. "You eat meat?" she asks dangerously.

"You don't?" Valerie counters. "Oh wait. Of _course_ you don't."

Sam's face remains neutral. As in zero emotion, which— if you know Sam at all— is absolutely terrifying. "Vegan. I'll let you borrow a documentary or two that'll have you rethink eating that."

"C'mon, Sam," Tucker chides as he lifts up his hamburger. "Let the girl eat her ham sandwich in peace. I, for one, am _glad_ we have a fellow meat eater at the table." He elbows Valerie lightly and chortles.

Sam points her fork at Valerie. "Let me know. I got a bunch of them." She goes back to her salad for a moment, before… "So, do you—?"

Valerie stands up. She turns to me with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me to lunch, Danny. This was nice. I'll see you after school." And she's gone, winding out of the cafeteria leaving only our dumbstruck silence in her wake.

"That was like the Sam-nish Inquisition," Tucker laughs nervously.

I turn to Sam. "Let me guess: _I'm_ the ghost that wears aortas on a necklace?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I was just talking about the movie," Sam sniffs. "Getting to know her. You know, being nice."

"Being _too_ nice," I say.

Sam scowls. She dissolves back to normal and glares at me. I've never been so happy to see that cutting stare. "What do you want from me? I talked to her. Saw if we share any common interests. Guess what? Big surprise— we _don't_."

"So, what's the name of this 'movie'?" I ask, putting movie in air quotes.

"How to Ruin _Everything,_" Sam says, getting up from her chair, moving out of the cafeteria in her heavy black boots, glaring at anyone that so much as _dares. _The air in the room seems to follow behind her in her dramatic exodus. The lights feel like they dim, as if she's left all of us behind in a dusty oblivion through the force of her black mood.

"You gotta give it to her. The girl's got flair," Tucker says in her absence. "Definitely knows how to make an exit. Take notes."

"I guess I won't be inviting Valerie to lunch again," I sigh.

"What? Why not?" Tucker straightens his glasses and goes back to his food with gusto.

I stare at him like he's grown a second head. "Have you been here this entire time?" I ask.

"I'd say that went well." Tucker shrugs. "At least Sam's making an effort. What'd you expect? Them to be instant friends?"

"That'd be great," I mumble. Sam's 'nice' is terribly creepy. I'd rather her just act normal. Although, Tucker's right. I sigh and poke a bit at my food.

"Dude" —Tucker points a french fry at me and waggles it— "Sam _never_ plays nice with _anyone_. Not even me."

"That's not true. She's nice to me," I defend. Even when she's mad at me and being bitingly sarcastic, she still cares. No matter how much she doesn't want anyone else to know. She cares. Too much, maybe.

Tucker rolls his eyes and gives me a pointed look from over the top of his glasses.

"What?"

"You're _Danny,_ though. You're different."

I pause, trying to make sense of that for a moment, tumbling it around in my head, before I shrug and get up with Tucker to toss the rest of my lunch.

.

.

It's thirty minutes until curfew, one martial arts lesson, and one dinner later that I build up the courage. I know this conversation has to happen. I've been content to ignore it with Valerie sitting across from me at the Nasty Burger, laughing her loud laughs and making her lewd jokes, flicking french fries at me while all the while insisting that, _"This is not a date. Don't get any ideas, Fenton. I'll pay for myself thank you very much. At $6.50 your valor knows no bounds."_ I'm walking her away from the diner, past the park and to the station where a train will take her back to Elmerton, when I finally blurt it out.

"So, what's the story with you and Phantom?"

Valerie almost misses a step, spinning around to face me. She pulls some of her tangled hair out of her face and gives me a frown. "What? What do you mean?"

"You seem to hate him a lot," I shrug. "So I just… wondered why."

"He… he really messed things up for me."

I swallow, my mouth dry. "What'd he do?"

Valerie continues walking. For a minute I think she won't answer. All of that happiness has drained from her face leaving her looking hardened and stoic. Like a warrior; like a huntress. "He destroyed my dad's career, not to mention thousands of dollars of lab equipment. We had to move to Elmerton because of him. My dad and I can't afford much of anything anymore. I'm working two jobs just to save for college. And on top of all that he told my dad about my ghost hunting. Now I have to sneak around behind his back to get anything done. Ghost hunting is the only thing I _have_ anymore."

I feel a nagging thread of guilt. I know Valerie lost a lot because of me, but I've never really taken the time to think about what that must have felt like. Her entire life was uprooted. Every aspect of it. "You have martial arts," I prod, but even as I say it I feel pathetic.

She wraps her sweater tighter around her middle. "It's not the same. Flying around up there... It's hard for people to really understand… when I'm flying I just feel... _happy_."

I peer at her, silent. We've stopped walking.

Valerie looks away from me and kicks a rock across the pavement. "You think I'm weird. I don't mean to whine on about my problems. I just—"

"All I do is think about flying." More than she could imagine.

"Right." She smiles. "Astronaut."

She remembered. I do an internal cheer and point at her. "Kumquats?"

"Right," she laughs in delight. "That word is so funny."

A google of galaxies rotate above us. I walk closer to her; her uncoordinated, yet oddly charming moon. We reach the furthermost western edge of the park. At night it's eerily peaceful. Frogs croak. Crickets chirp. We drift off of the road and onto the path through the trees— the slightly quicker route to the station.

I speak up again, looking outwards into the night sky. "You know, Valerie. Not all ghosts are evil. Most of them are confused or lost."

"Oh really? And how would you know?" Valerie snorts.

"I talk with some of them."

"I'm _so_ sure," Valerie chuckles, elbowing me a little bit to shove me to the side.

"Really," I laugh, stumbling a bit. "I do."

"Which ones?"

"The Box Ghost, who's harmless. Along with Frostbite, Dora, Wulf and…" I pause for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. I know I'm going to have to say it eventually. Although, planting any connection between me and my ghostly self could be one of those stupid moves that Sam's been warning me about. I grimace, but do it anyway. "And Phantom."

Valerie freezes. I can hear her suck in a quick breath in surprise. "You _talk_ to Phantom? … Wait. You _know_ Phantom?"

"Kind of. Phantom never meant to hurt you, Valerie. I promise." I try to make that sound as honest as possible.

It doesn't matter. Valerie's shut down. She shakes her head once, as if to force my words back out of her ears. "He's a liar, Danny. You shouldn't talk to him. He's dangerous. I know you think he's some kind of superhero, but he ruined my life."

"He feels really bad about that," I insist quietly. "He's trying to help—"

Valerie's face grows stormy. Her shoulders hunch, her stance hardens. "_Feels?" _she spits. "Phantom doesn't _feel_. He's got you brainwashed, just like the rest of this town. If it came down to his life or yours he'd drop the hero act in a heartbeat. He doesn't care about you or anyone else in this town. Phantom's nothing but a—"

But whatever Phantom was, I'd have to wait to find out. A deep bark breaks through the park, the depth of it rivaling Tucker's subwoofers. Valerie spins, looking for the source. It's why she misses the puff of condensed air as my ghost sense triggers.

"GHOST—" Valerie's digging in her backpack for a weapon.

I follow her gaze and see Cujo bounding across the park in gigantic scary mode.

"Danny, _run_—" Despite her courage, Valerie scuttles back a few steps when Cujo shows no sign of slowing. He gallops over the grassy knoll to meet us, slobber flying out behind him. Valerie shoves her arm into her purse. She yanks out her ectogun and aims it.

"Wait!" I knock her arm. Her aim goes south and blasts a smoking black hole in the grass.

"What are you _doing?_" Valerie yells, but she deflates a little when Cujo shrinks and topples at my feet, lapping at my shoes in puppy form. Shes tenses when I crouch down and scratch behind his ears.

"Don't touch it! It's….. dangerous….?" Valerie trails off as Cujo flops onto his back and exposes his belly to my scratching fingers.

"It's a puppy," I tell her.

"For _now_." But she looks unsure, like she might have been wrong about something, although she would never admit it.

"You said you wanted to learn about ghosts," I remind her cheekily. "Lesson number one: In some cases, 'shoot first and ask questions later' is a bad policy."

"I want to learn their weaknesses. Not how to pet them!" Valerie scowls.

I snort. "Behold, his weakness: Tummy scratches." I give a small coo as Cujo chirps, waggling his butt around in excitement. With a smile, I glance back up at her. "Isn't this more enjoyable than fighting?"

Valerie suddenly tenses again and re-charges her gun.

"What?" I ask her warily. Cujo stills, eyes wide and afraid as his ears pick up the tell-tale whine of an ectogun. If she keeps this up she'll spook him back into attack mode.

"That's Phantom's dog," Valerie tells me, her lips settling into a grim line. "If it's here, that means Phantom can't be far behind."

Well, she isn't_ wrong._

"Somehow I doubt he'd be stupid enough to show up with you waving that gun around," I can't help but laugh. This whole situation shouldn't be funny to me. Dangerous situations shouldn't be funny, but they _were._ They were hilarious.

"Oh yeah? What's so funny? You better not be laughing at _me._" Some of the seriousness fades from her eyes. Her grip on her gun loosens.

"Duh, I'm laughing at you," I tease. "You're so serious. So scary. But look at him." I gesture back down at Cujo.

She glares at the puppy, who is currently tugging at her shoelace and tumbling around in a tiny ball of ghost fur. He yips a pathetic squeak. Valerie tries to look menacing, but her scowl cracks and soon enough she's laughing right along with me. The two of us bust a lung until we're wheezing for breath.

Before Valerie can scare Cujo back into his more monstrous form, I reach into my backpack and pull out my Thermos. Without much of a show I suck Cujo back up into it, planning on dumping him back into the Zone when I go home. Not that he ever stays there for long, but it's safer than out here with Miss Trigger Happy on the loose.

Speaking of Valerie… I cap the lid to the thermos and look up, seeing her giving me a weird look.

"Phantom always carries one of those around," she tells me.

I frown, spinning the thermos around so that my last name is visible on the side. "My parent's design," I tell her. "We have boxes of them in the basement. Phantom's been stealing equipment from them for years." Not a lie. Not entirely. I like to believe I borrow it, and that it's in some way mine through possession of my parents. I am, afterall, using their devices as they were intended: To fight ghosts.

"What are you going to do with that ghost?"

"Put him back in the Ghost Zone, where he belongs." I pat the Thermos a little. "Hopefully he'll stay there."

"Why'd you have that in your backpack?"

"Vigilance, remember?" I toss her a stupid grin. "You never know when a ghost'll pop up."

The tension evaporates. Valerie slumps a bit and tucks her gun back into her backpack. She looks pleased that I'm taking her lessons to heart so quickly. Her eyes trail longingly across my Thermos. I know what she's going to say before she even says it.

She's gives me a huge grin, canine's glinting in the moonlight, hands resting atop her hips, as she tilts her head back and points at the device. "I want one."


End file.
